Private Tales Weird Friends

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Deliv - Baal Asha River

This wasn't the first time he'd been to Deliv, and it probably wasn't going to be the last.

The city was a crossroad of all sorts and types. Vel Anir had never been the most accepting of nations, and in truth neither had Cortos. The Radiant Church hadn't exactly been known for it's open door policies, and as their control slowly crawled through the land, those who wanted to avoid their prying eyes were pushed further and further out.

Deliv, then, became one of the best places for anyone of that sort to go. The city was something of a bridge(heh), between the two lands, and meant neither had complete control of it. The hustle and bustle of the chaotic bridge city was a good place to hide; which was precisely why Cenric and his companion had come here. "I would guess he's in the Underbridge."

Cenric said, throwing one of the strange pieces of cooked dough into his mouth. The sweetness exploding over his tongue to an almost over the top degree.

"I doubt he has the coin to stay in any of the nicer places." Renegade Dreadlords tended to have resources, but their target wasn't one of them. Savel hadn't been known for pinching his pennies, in fact he'd been known for just the opposite. That was why it had been so easy to pay him off to spy on the Republic. "Plus, easier to hide down there with all the other weirdos."

He continued, offering the paper bag to his companion. "Right?"

The Dreadlord said with a needling smile.
 
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Talya looked at Cenric, looked at the bag, and then back to the Dreadlord. She knew she did not need to take the food, that Lord Cenric would beat her or scold her for refusing. She also knew that this couldn't be a cruel trick and that Lord Cenric would not punish her for accepting food. She knew that, whatever her actions, she would not be punished at all. Yet despite what she knew, she felt a great deal of apprehension. Just a few years prior and her decision would have had dramatic consequences.

It had been some time since the great change, since her Rune was removed and her order disbanded. Though change was slower than some would like to think. She was no longer a slave, but she was still tied to a human handler. She was not bound to subservience by magic, but she was still very much bound by habit and the scars that would never fade. No, she was not a slave, but she was a long way from being seen as an equal.


She decided to take a small piece of dough; her handler seemed to want her to. She had no desire to eat the strange, mushy thing, but she put it in her mouth all the same. It would probably have been pleasant if she wasn't woefully inexperienced with sugary foods, and the assault of sweetness made her throat twitch in an effort to expel the invader, but she kept it down and swallowed with as little obvious displeasure as possible.

She was still trying to figure Lord Cenric out. This was their first assignment together since her previous handler had set out across the great sea for Malakath. While Talya would have enjoyed very much being surrounded by water for thousands upon thousands of miles, Vel Anir in its wisdom did not see fit to send a former Forsaken on that particular voyage. So she had been reassigned to someone that fit her experience as a covert assassin. The Vigilite was a good fit.


He wanted an answer. "Yes, sir." Her voice was smooth and lyrical, and she tried to ignore the stinging sweetness on her tongue as she spoke. "It will be much more difficult to find him there with the crowds and dark. If he is smart, he will stay somewhere completely unremarkable."

She took out a medium-sized waterskin and had a quick sip, visibly relieved as the tepid water removed the traces of fried dough from her tongue and rehydrated her throat. She had two such waterskins on her person. Dryness did not agree with her.

"He is not smart, though," she continued. "Otherwise he would not have been caught."
 
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Out of the corner of his eye Cenric watched Talya choke down the small piece of dough. His head shaking ever so slightly as he noticed the flash of discomfort echoing over her features. A fact she hid well, but not enough for it to slip by almost entirely.

There was an argument, well, not really an argument. More of a petty competition of garnering pity about who'd had it worse; Dreadlords or Forsaken. Many of his own peers thought it was the former, though mostly because that had been their own experience. The Proctors had never taken it easy in their day, and cruelty had often been capricious and malicious. Doled out for petty grievances as well as true punishment. For most Dreadlord's, they simply couldn't imagine something worse. Plus, relating to the half-breeds was never easy. What with their strange appearance and all.

Cenric’s thoughts, however, differed. Not because he had any more sympathy for the weirdos, but because he'd quickly realized they lacked any Initiative for fun.

At least he and the other Dreadlord took joy in some things.

Even if half the time that was murdering other people.

For the Forsaken though, even that inclination had been beaten out of them. A depressing fact he'd come to quickly understand. Talya was hardly the first of their kind he'd worked with, but the same through-line seemed to linger in her just like it did all the others. Straight forward, to the point, get the job done.

”I wouldn't make that assumption yet.” Cenric mused to her, but he motioned for the Forsaken to follow as they began to head into Underbridge. The teeming city of Deliv seemed to crowd even more as they went down the rickety steps.

”He got caught, but he also escaped.” Savel might not have counted his coin, but he was not fool. ”Which, I'm wondering if that was the whole point.”

Cenric said, raising a concern he'd offered their superiors just days before. One which had been soundly rejected as a notion of sheer stupidity.
 
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Talya nodded, sending the light splashing across her skin as though she were partially submerged. She followed Cenric, keeping close to his heels to avoid being separated in the current of citizens. A body brushed her shoulder roughly, pushing to get past, then a short woman almost trod on her feet with seemingly no regard for where she was headed. The smell of unwashed humans mixed too easily with the already salty air, and Talya wrinkled her nose against it.

Talya wished to ask more about their mission, to know more about their target. She had been told almost nothing, as usual. Expected to simply follow instructions in a very one-sided partnership with her assigned Dreadlord. She remembered, though, that she could ask questions now. She was permitted to speak without being spoken to... at least officially. Cenric had offered her a sweet. It had been nauseating, but the gesture had been there. She weighed the pros and cons of her decision, and decided to trust that he would not retaliate.

"Why would he wish to get caught if he could simply flee? He could have come to Deliv on his own at any time."

She could think of only two reasons to be caught intentionally: to be taken somewhere you could not infiltrate yourself, like a prison or fortress, or to make a political statement. Political statements in Vel Anir were historically fatal, and Saval had never actually been apprehended.
 
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Cenric tilted his head in a nod. "Therein lies the question."

It was not often that the Republic sent a member of the Vigilite after a runaway, much less two. There was something more here than either of them had been told. That wasn't surprising for Talya, but for him? He was supposed to be trusted by now.

"If I had to make a guess." He said as they continued forward into the slums of Deliv. "Our friend was in contact with someone while the Republic held him."

Cenric offered, showing the Forsaken that his own thoughts mirrored her own. "Getting caught was a means to an end."

Which begged a further question, what was he in Deliv for now? There were many answers to uncover, and Cenric intended to dig up every single one. Another corner took them to the first tavern on his list, a sign hanging up the door that read 'The Painted Flower".

A facsimile of a daisy in rainbow clear beneath the words.
 
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"A spy?" She blurted. Cenric had not chastised her for speaking thus far and she was running with it. "Then Vel Anir is after two individuals." A clear demarcation between the city and herself, though this was not out of spite for the powers that had abused her. On the contrary, it was those powers themselves who had drawn that line. Like a scorned child, Talya still wished she could claim to be an Anirian. Revolution and all, she did not feel it.

The "the end" their target was after was in the Painted Flower, it hardly seemed worth it. Salt was heavy in the air and had clearly taken its toll on the structure. Talya inhaled deeply. Despite the stench of the Underbridge, the humidity was doing wonders for her. There was enough moisture here that she could pull a very tiny fracture out of the air to keep a healthy sheen to her skin without too much effort.

Another unexpected benefit of this place was the relative disinterest the people seemed to have in her. Yes, there were double-takes at her blueish skin and frilled ears, but only by those who passed very closely and who were not already preoccupied. Most of these people looked straight ahead, or glanced at her only long enough to find a way through the crowd. If they noted her strangeness, they certainly didn't seem to care. Part of why the slums had always been more accommodating to her: these people had enough troubles before worrying about who she was.

Of course, traveling with Cenric may have had much to do with this, too. Even if he wasn't boldly displaying rank, he carried himself with the clear confidence that all Dreadlords seemed to possess. Talya was reminded yet again that she did not know what Cenric could do. Her briefings had not deemed it necessary for her to know.
 
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"Vel Anir is after one, we are after two, and thus the benefit that brings us." He flashed her a grin, though chose not to elaborate more on the oddly cryptic statement he had offered. Instead, choosing the race forward down the streets.

Cenric wasted time nor tact upon entering their first tavern.

There were questions that needed asking, and although he was as brutal as any other of his fellows; Cenric had long known the benefit of a more soft touch. There was a time for breaking fingers, and there was a time to slip someone and extra coin or two.

"You're kidding?" Cenric said with a long sight. "No one like that, huh?"

The Dreadlord shook his head. "Been looking for him, ya see."

He smiled.

"We're old friends, just needed to get him word." Hand slapped down on the bar. "Wouldn't mind letting him know if he does pass through, would you?"

As Cenric asked the question, his voice a little too loud, he conveniently lifted his palm. Any man looking would see the glitter of gold, and any man looking would see that he gently pushed it towards the tavern keeper just a few seconds later.

One bribe paid might mean another on offer, or someone to rob.

Cenric was willing to play with either.
 
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The tavern was as dim as the rest of the Underbridge and equally rank. It was not the sort of place one came to if they could afford any other option, and judging by the patrons, they could not. Clothing was uniformly damp and dingy, hair was plastered back by sweat and seawater, and belongings, if any, were kept close.

It was a great spot for Cenric's gambit, drawing eyes all around. Greedy or simply hungry, Talya expected at least one of them to strike up a conversation before the day was out. Violence was a possibility, but given that most of these people looked like fishermen, she was not worried about their chances.

Something caught her eye, though, nestled amongst the drunken throng. Tayla leaned back and placed her elbows on the bar in a thoroughly unbothered stance. "Third table back, beneath the chandelier. Orange coat." When she spoke, her face wore a soft and pleasant expression, and there was even a hint of a smile playing at her lips. To all the world she looked like she was sharing a pleasant quip with her friend. Her words did not match this one bit. Toneless, direct, sounding fully alien from her upturned lips.

She had spotted a man that did not match the description of the other patrons. He sat at a table positioned beneath a heavy iron hanging adorned with melting candles. His hair was unwashed but it had been combed, and his beard looked like it had seen scissors in the last few days. His coat had scuffs and occasional nicks, but the seams were tight, the hems unfrayed, and the color was too rich and unfaded. By all accounts, this person did not belong here.

But, as she had seen him, he had seen her. A blue woman and a clean-cut man were equally out of place if not more so.

Her frilled ears perked at the sounds of approaching footsteps. Patrons approaching the bar, customers headed to their rooms, perhaps someone willing to take advantage of Cenric's "generosity."
 
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It was not long after that Cenric stepped down the stairs, the frown on his face spoke of the disappointment that had been learned rather swiftly. As he stepped into the main hall of the tavern, the Dreadlord looked briefly over towards his partner.

The shake of his head was all the communication she would receive before he made his way back towards the back.

Perhaps he had been too heavy handed.

A bribe was something any fool would take. He hadn't expected that it would be some runaway from Elbion, but perhaps that would be useful at some point. Though he had no idea how. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he raised his hand. "Get me something brown, heavy."

The man's frowned for a moment, seeming to about to ask for clarification before quickly turning away and deciding it was best just to guess. A long sigh dragged into Cenric's lungs, and after a few seconds he motioned for his partner to join him at the bar.

Perhaps she had seen something.

"I doubt our friend was being watched?" He asked as the Bar Tender walked away, Erin's hands taking up a drink he never would have drank in a thousand years.
 
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Talya hadn't had much better success while Cenric was interrogating their subject. The man with the too-nice clothing and shave had turned out to be just a novice trader, who had fallen on hard times just long enough to to be driven to cheap drink, though not long enough for his clothing to fully fade. She had managed to coax this information out of him as he was already tipsy, and it didn't hurt that with each sip a bit more ale made it into his mouth than he was expecting, nudged by Talya's invisible hand. Alas, he had no connection to Vel Anir, and his small trading vessel was suited only for coastal travel.

Her frilled ears drooped almost imperceptibly as Cenric returned with the dour expression of a fruitless exercise. "No. He didn't appear important to anyone." No one interesting had entered or left in that time, nor had they moved from the front to back of the tavern. "Shall we inspect the rooms?

Talya was more accustomed to outright stealth than this blending in plain sight approach. She liked waiting until dark and moving freely, or hiding beneath the water until the harbor was clear. That wouldn't be possible here, but perhaps the sheer number of people in this cramped inn would be camouflage enough.

She again found herself wondering just what it was that Cenric could do. Each Dreadlord had some terrifying magic at their command, and those entrusted to "monitor" the former Forsaken usually had stronger powers. That Cenric had not employed any magic thus far only fueled her curiosity. She had never know Dreadlords to be subtle.
 
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After a few moments, Cenric dipped his head in a nod. "Good next step."

His eyes flickered around the room.

There was another option of course, but Cenric was weary of spreading himself too thin. With everything Erodin had set him to task, he could already feel his magics straining. It was difficult, maintaining attention across so many bodies.

"We'll either find something interesting" He said, taking a breath. "Or we leave a set of eyes here."

He jerked his head. "Come on."

The Dreadlord said as he began to stalk up towards the stairs. Not noticing the figure at the other end of the room who seemed to stand up, and quietly slip towards the door. His coat a very similar cut as those worn by Guardsmen of Vel Anir. Though both it's insignia's were torn off.
 
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Leave a set of eyes here.

A curious choice of words. Talya did not think she would be permitted to stay here if Cenric left. Did he have other agents he could call on? Were they here now? Could Cenric perhaps spy passively on places he had been? The questions tumbled forth and were just as quickly sequestered. It was not for her to know the whole story, it never had been. Perhaps later.

She followed Cenric closely at first, but paused as her nostrils flared, picking up an unusual trace. This tavern was all salt water and waste, a fog of hot humidity, but it carried the same notes as the water than ran beneath the bridge. Even the fresh water, no doubt brought in barrels from some nearby creek or river, had been soured as it steeped in the underbridge. This new trace was not from here. It had the clarity of inland rivers, despite being sloshed about in a canteen that the Guardsman had just opened on his way out.

Had they been in a less stifling tavern she may not have noticed it, but she spied the figure lifting the canteen to his lips. She noted the coat and the frayed areas where insignia should be, and she caught their eye.

The guardsman made a choice, and that choice was to walk as quickly as possible without outright running to the door. Talya, too, made a choice. They would not reach the figure before they escaped, and it would be nearly impossible to follow them through the twisted underbridge. She was aware she may be punished if she blew their cover, though she was just as likely to receive lashing for letting their quarry escape. Or was she? The new Republic was still... confusing.

Clenched her fist and raked it up through the air, pulling the water from the figure's quarter-full canteen as she did so. It lashed around the guardsman's neck in a thin, glittering, unbreakable necklace that tightened, taking the person to their knees as their face started to redden.

"There!" She said. Then, feeling she owed her keeper some explanation of her outburst, "Anirian clothing, and a waterskin not yet finished from inland."

They would have had to arrive recently, and have traveled very quickly, to not go through their water. There was no reason for a serviceman to remove his insignia. An informant, perhaps? A contact for their prey? Or a defector? Either way... one with whom they should have a "conversation."
 
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Cenric's head whipped around in an instant.
Eyes immediately flickering across the room towards where Talya called. He shifted in an instant, kicking himself off the step and darting across the room.

Chaos broke out almost immediately, Talya's magic causing cries for concern, and the shouts pulling the attentions of near everyone in the tavern. Cenric heard the Innkeep shout something, though he was not sure what over the din of movement.

The Guardsmen, now encircled by his own water grasped desperately towards his throat in an attempt to free himself.

Struggling against the pull of the artificial tide strangling him, the man pushed off the wall and tried to fling himself out the door just as Cenric caught up to him. A leg hooked between his, hand grasping at the back of his shirt as he wrenched him back and threw him to the floor. "No one move!"

Cenric boomed, his voice cutting through the noise as suddenly his eyes flared a pinkish red.

Flames crawling up over his hands as he took a step forward and loomed over their new captive.

"Anyone tries to step outside. They die." Cenric threatened, turning his gaze away briefly from the Guardsmen and towards the other occupants. "Understand?"

Silence was the only answer he received, fear piercing through the eyes of every man in the room. "Let him speak."

He said, motioning to Talya.
 
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Talya noted Cenric's demeanor pointedly. It did not seem like he was angry with her for blowing their cover, though she knew that punishment could come later. Regardless, she obeyed his command, and drew her hand up, her fingers pulling at invisible threads to move the water away from their captive's neck. It undulated through the air like a glittering serpent, patrons cowering as it passed them, until it came to rest as a small, tightly-spinning sphere above Talya's shoulder.

She had been given as wide a berth as possible by the terrified onlookers. They squashed into one another in the overcrowded room to get away from her. Talya was used to the looks, and she preferred fear to disgust. She paid them no mind as she walked to join Cenric.

Fire. So that was Cenric's "gift." Odd, it didn't seem quite right with his personality. Fire was brash and impulsive. Cenric seemed cooler-headed than that. Yes, he had threatened everyone in the room with death, but that was more or less implied by a dreadlord just being in the building.

"Why did you flee?" she asked of the guardsman, now rubbing his throat and coughing. Cenric's fire cast a living light across her, making her hair appear to writhe beneath invisible waves while her eyes gleamed down. She looked, all in all, quite imposing.
 
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"Don't like Dreadlords." The man said in simple response, his voice a choked off rasp as he clutched at his throat.

"Not many people do." Cenric commented as he stepped closer, lowering the flames in his palms so they flickered only over his fingers. "But lets not play any games."

He had always liked interrogations. The back and forth, the game played between questioner and victim. It was fun, getting into the thoughts of another, and then eventually breaking them. "You were running because you noticed what we were doing. Which makes me think you know what we want."

Slowly, the Dreadlord leaned in, extending his finger and gently letting the flame lick across the man's face.

The Guardsmen's eyes shot open, pain lancing through him as he let out a scream.

"K-Kress fuck!" He shouted. "P-please! I-I don't know-what the fuck you want."

"Are you sure? We're looking for a man, a little taller than you." Even as he spoke half of Cenric's mind was still on those in the tavern, knowing most would take any opportunity to flee. "I have an inkling you might know him."

The flames licked closer again, but the Guardsmen shook his head away. "N-no, don't know any names. I-I promise. I just help...deserters sometimes. Get them new identities, passage on the riverboats...that's all. When I saws you, I th-I thought you were looking for me!"